Give Me a Shot

Chapter Twenty-Three Mo

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mo

Mo closed the almanac website and took a moment to savor the hit of ease he always received when he did. That particular site was visually “loud” for him, disturbing. It always caused an uptick in static in his mind and body when he used it. Unfortunately, it was the absolute best one he’d found to help him tend to his plants. He switched over to his plant spreadsheet and made the necessary updates. Over the past couple of days, he’d been engaging more fully with his plants, trying to flush out the higher than usual levels of static that had been buzzing in his muscles and slowing his thoughts. He hadn’t been successful.

I’ll probably feel more grounded with some food.

He left his computer and jogged down the stairs to the kitchen. He could heat up some of his newest batch of chorba since he was feeling unbalanced. But thinking of it made him think of Jess. If he was honest with himself, most of the out-of-sorts feeling was coming from what she was dealing with. The evening she called him over was when his static had first ticked up. The photoshoot stress had raised it, and their conversation about her turning to him to escape had put it firmly on high. In spite of his surprise about the upsetting news that she needed more medical tests, he’d refused to push her on it. She was a very levelheaded person. It seemed odd that she would be resistant to getting to the bottom of a health problem. And he’d noticed that it was a problem—he’d seen her stretching her hands or rubbing her shoulders during meetings or even their dates. It had been going on for quite some time, why not try to find a solution? However, he could certainly understand being afraid when a doctor says, “I don’t know.”

He opened the fridge, assessing the contents for a sandwich or a salad.

She didn’t seem worried about her actual health. More like annoyed that her doctor and her friends were bothering her about it.

Then there was the impact on her from contact with her mother. When she’d sent Jess the photos, a rush of cold had passed from Jess to him, even before her body had…deflated? He wasn’t sure that was the best word. He grabbed the ingredients for a sandwich and got to work at the kitchen counter.

He was still glad that she’d called him over. But as much as he felt honored that she’d let him be there for her in that way, he couldn’t think about it too much right then. All the sensations from her upset would echo back, and his sandwich would remain intact. After laying out his placemat, napkin, and glass of sparkling water, he sliced the sandwich in half and sat at the kitchen table.

The static had made it feel like his bones were vibrating on the way to the photoshoot the following day, but he’d attributed it to being watched, photographed, seen. And when he’d had a few moments with Jess, things had calmed. He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly.

That’s a great sign.

But that evening, after the photoshoot…he swallowed his bite, his throat protesting a bit. He tried to wash down the discomfort with half of his glass of water. He’d been happy and relieved, and his muscles and skin and mind had been quiet and content—until he’d become concerned about her escaping in him. While he was glad that they’d cleared the air about the possibility of him feeling used, they had not fully addressed her potential escapism.

Her physical pain, being upset by her family, running from painful feelings…

It was plain as day to him that at least two of those problems were related to losing Cassie. He wondered about the pain. When Mo had imagined losing one of his brothers, it had caused him piercing, visceral pain. Allowing his thoughts to return to that moment made him push his sandwich away. If he felt that way only imagining that kind of loss, how might it feel to actually live it?

Maybe it’s different for me because I’m an HSP. Any feeling is.

Needing to be sure, he downed the rest of his water, put his sandwich in the fridge, and headed back upstairs.

—

Half an hour later, Dr. Google had provided some answers.

“Grief may be responsible for joint pain, muscle pain, and intense stiffness…” read the very first result. From there, Mo had gone down several rabbit holes, trying to understand the hows and the whys.

“Efforts to avoid the reality of loss” had particularly stuck out to Mo. Not that Jess owed him a performance of grieving Cassie, but he’d only seen her specifically upset about her sister one time. And she hadn’t shed a tear. She hadn’t told him when exactly Cassie died, but she had said that it happened right before she returned to the States. She’d only been back a few months.

Mo sat back in his seat, slowly scratching at his beard. Google had also told him that it was possible that she was running to him to escape in physical pleasure. After some time to chew it over, he realized that her desire to feel good with him made him a bit proud—in those moments, she was secure with him and felt free. But he was very, very concerned about whether continuing to run could harm her.

He rested his elbows on the desk, scratching at both sides of his beard as he reread the last article he’d found. All of the information had been useful, if a bit sterile. He’d have liked to run it by a real person, but grief is a touchy subject. Personal.

I do know someone who might be willing to share her lifetime’s worth of wisdom.

—

Mo took a deep breath as he raised his hand to knock on his neighbor’s door.

“Mrs. Sargysan, are you in?” he called out.

“Where in the world else would I be?” she called back after a few seconds. “Come on in, use your key!”

Mo let himself in, careful to close the door behind him. Mrs. Sargysan was on the couch, watching television. She lowered the volume as Mo joined her, sitting in the loveseat. He and Maddie had been checking in on Mrs. Sargysan a little more than usual after she’d fallen. She was mobile again and had a new purple cane.

“Hi,” he said. “That’s a nice cane.”

“It is better than that other one,” she said. “If I have to have one, it sure won’t be that monstrosity my nephew brought by first. Screamed nursing home.”

Mo smiled but let it falter. His arms felt weak, his hands jittery, nervous about broaching the subject. He pressed his palms together between his knees. The deep breath he’d taken hitched on its way out because Mrs. Sargysan was eyeing him.

“Mo?” she asked. “What is it?”

“I need to ask you something,” he said quickly. “A favor, it—”

“Yes,” she said, cutting him off.

“I’m sorry?” he asked, confused.

“Yes,” she repeated. “I will watch Maddie so you can take Jess away for a romantic weekend. If her mom can’t watch her. We can have a slumber party, make cookies, all that jazz.”

Mo chuckled.

“No,” he said. “Thanks, but that’s not what I wanted to ask. It does have to do with Jess, though.”

“Okay,” she said.

His skin felt prickly, and it was like his muscles were coated in nausea.

“Mo.” She turned off the television and shifted on the couch to better face him. “You’re worrying me,” she said tersely.

“Sorry. I just feel bad talking about it because it’s kind of Jess’s private business,” he said. “But I also think it’s harming her, and I want to be sure I understand the situation well so I can help. And so that I don’t make things worse.”

Mrs. Sargysan narrowed her eyes. Mo figured he’d better spit it out.

“Jess’s younger sister died,” he said. “Unexpectedly. Violently. Earlier this year.”

“Oh, no,” she said softly, shaking her head. “No, no. May God illuminate her soul.” She crossed herself, ending by pressing her open palm to her chest. “Was Jess with her?”

“No,” Mo said, shaking his head and rubbing his palms together again. “She was still studying in England when it happened.”

Mrs. Sargysan pulled in a breath through clenched teeth.

“How is she handling the loss?” she asked.

“That’s just it,” Mo said. “I don’t think she really is. It wasn’t long ago at all, and she never expresses grief at losing her sister. She gets very upset after she speaks with her family, seems to try to distract herself afterward. The big thing is that she’s having a lot of physical problems—aches and pains—but the doctors can’t find anything wrong.”

Mrs. Sargysan let out an enormous sigh and slumped fully back into the couch.

“I don’t…I don’t want to bring up any difficult memories for you,” he said. “I just…I thought you might know if grief can cause physical pain.”

Mrs. Sargysan looked him in the eye. The large round lenses of her glasses magnified the tears he saw in hers, making his heart clench. She gave him a sweet half-smile.

“The only reason it doesn’t cause me physical pain anymore is because I keep those difficult memories close now,” she said. “I stopped running from them, trying to stuff them away. Until I did, until I looked my sorrow in the face and accepted it, the constant pain in my body was a hundred times worse than the pain from when I fell in the kitchen. A thousand times worse than what you’ve seen the past few weeks as I’ve been recovering. No one can run from grief. Either we choose to face it, or our bodies make that choice for us.”

—

About an hour later, Mo returned to his side of the duplex. He’d had a good talk with Mrs. Sargysan while doing the washing up from her dinner, in spite of her protests. It had tickled him to realize that Mrs. S and Jess were a little alike—confident, headstrong, and caring, even though they didn’t easily let on. He was surprised that he hadn’t noticed before. Once he’d helped her up to her room, she’d shooed him home to call Jess. But how to begin to talk about something she didn’t want to see? Was that even his place?

Well, she was happy to be my girlfriend. Girlfriends and boyfriends don’t just stick to light subjects.

He pulled out his phone and dialed once he’d gotten comfortable sitting on his bed.

“Hephaestus!” she said, answering after the first ring.

He smiled, still feeling a little shy about his new nickname.

“Hi, m’lady. How’s your evening been?”

He sensed the downshift in her energy before she spoke.

“It’s been…something.” She sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

“That’s part of the problem,” she said, after a dry laugh. “Nothing. Got the results back from the second round of tests, and there is not a single thing wrong with me.”

The opportunity was right there. She’d given him the perfect chance to share what he’d confirmed with Mrs. S. He took a breath to prepare himself.

“So I’m raring to go for my visit with my parents this weekend.”

All the air whooshed out of Mo’s body.

“You’re…visiting your parents?” he asked, hoping his voice wasn’t as shaky as it felt.

“Yeah,” she said. “I decided to give in. To Alice, Steph, my mom. All of them.”

“Oh,” he said. Running a hand down his jean-covered thigh, he vacillated about what to ask next. The grief or the visit. He was uncomfortable about both.

“Um, I’m surprised,” he rushed out. “What made you decide to go?” He swallowed thickly, hoping he hadn’t sounded judgmental.

“Well,” Jess said. “Alice and Stephanie wouldn’t push the way they have been if they didn’t think that it would truly help. They haven’t let it go and probably won’t until I actually do it. By the way, thank you.”

“What for?” he asked, adjusting himself to sit up straighter.

“You’ve never nudged me about that. Never bothered me about my relationship with my parents. I realized it might be strange from your perspective, since from everything you’ve shared, you’re pretty close to your family,” she said.

Mo didn’t feel he merited any sort of praise for respecting how she chose to engage with her family.

“Um, you’re welcome,” he said.

“You’re a good boyfriend,” she said, a smile in her voice.

Mo’s shyness crept up.

“Uh, thanks,” he said.

“About the visit,” she said. “That last call with my mom really got on my nerves. I’ll go and just see her so that she stops asking. But the biggest thing is what I mentioned before—that I don’t feel like I’m fully home yet. It’s weird. Yeah, I went to my parents’ after I got back, but I didn’t feel like I was back in the same way that I had been during school breaks. It was kind of right, but a little off. Slightly unsettled, like…maybe this is weird, but like I was hovering, I hadn’t landed. Maybe if I go again and try to make the mental choice to land…I don’t know.”

“Ah,” Mo said. He saw a huge, glaring difference between the times that Jess had gone home during school breaks and her most recent visit: Cassie’s absence. It seemed obvious to him that a lack of one of his siblings would make him feel unsettled, but Jess seemed to be missing that possibility.

Is she missing it intentionally, or is it too painful to see? She’s dealing with enough physical pain right now. Maybe that would be a realization that would bring even more. Maybe if she tries to “land” she’ll feel differently.

“So,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “I told my mom I’d come this weekend since we can’t do anything because you’re with Maddie, right?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

—

After chatting a little longer, Mo hung up, disappointed in himself. All he’d had to say was “I’m worried about you. I think your pain might be grief. Maybe you don’t feel at home because Cassie is part of home for you,” and he hadn’t been able to. He’d always struggled with initiating discussions that might be hurtful for other people. For people close to him, he could usually manage, even though his heart would pound and his throat would get dry. That evening he’d failed.

Some boyfriend.

He pushed off his bed, headed to the shower. There was even more sharp, painful static to wash away.